Nightmare
by RenaElaine
Summary: A one-shot in which Eska travels to republic city and sees a Nuktuk mover, despite the foreseeable emotional repercussions. Perhaps the feelings between her and Bolin aren't as buried as they seem.


**Sorry for the wait, if you waited, my posting schedule is a mess. This takes place shortly after Book 2. **

**Anyways, as always, please read, review, favorite, and follow. Concrit is both welcome and needed. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Korra or any of its plot and characters.**

* * *

><p>The bending arena appeared like a glowing golden palace against the black night. Posters set near the entrance advertised the latest Nuktuk mover, which seemed to already be underway as no one entered or exited. Unbeknownst to Bolin, the star of the evening, a depressed Eska was among the crowd inside. She had traveled all the way to Republic City without her other half, Desna, just to see the mover. Her reasoning being it that it was a necessary pain in order to move on, but somewhere buried deep inside she knew she just wanted to see him, despite the repercussions.<p>

* * *

><p>She sat staring at a picture frame, then the screen, then the theater box and back at the frame again, seeing the same face appearing on all three. Perfectly straight strands of hair slipped from their loose tie as she began staring, no longer at the frame, but the picture inside of it.<p>

The scene onscreen changed and the audience was bathed in soft light, making the tears on her cheeks sparkle like diamonds. In this soft glow the picture inside the frame was revealed; a strong and masculine boy. If you looked at the right angle you would've seen a lip print among many fingerprints staining the elegant glass cover. However, all of this happened in only a second, but if one had looked hard enough they could have seen it all.

She looked up from the frame and found, to her despair, the romantic climax gracing the screen. Her eyes popped wide as the mover clearly displayed a deep, long, passionate kiss, one she never had. The sun rose inexplicably fast over the snowy horizon and provided an even grander view of the kiss, horns of all sorts began blaring a grand theme.

Was that what it's supposed to be like? She thought, as her face and her heart crumpled inward in sadness. Was the sun supposed to come out and trumpets begin playing? She'd never had that and felt she never would.

The fanfare ended on a loud high chord as the words, "The End" painted themselves in black bold calligraphy across the screen and over the happy couple. The screen quickly became black and the arena lights clicked on, sending black spots dancing across Eska's already blurry vision.

"Quite an emotional mover, huh?" An elderly woman asked her while dabbing gently at the corners of her eyes with a silken handkerchief. Looking over to address the woman Eska found a sweet grandmotherly face attached to a very short and rather stout body. The woman took no notice of Eska's blank stare as she added to her previous thought. "Especially for us water tribe women." She attempted a knowing smile and gave a little gasp, "oh honey, your makeup's running." Glaring dismally at her reflection in the picture's glass frame she found the old lady's statement to be true, rivers of tears tinted with black covered her cheeks and her eyes looked like that of a fire ferret's. Turning away to rustle through her bag the old lady eventually emerged, after some time, with some thing white in her wrinkled old hand. Smiling sweetly she stuck her hand out abruptly towards Eska, who could now clearly see she was offering a wrinkled linty tissues that smelled heavily of perfume. The small act of kindness only surprised Eska for a fraction of a second before she slipped into the emotionless mask and trained monotone she'd been forced into since her young life.

"I did not find this mover emotional in any way. In fact I am angered by its unfounded bias and ridiculous portrayals." The woman still had her hand stuck out with obvious shock and confusion painted on her face due to the cold response. Gaining her composure with a little throat clearing cough she stated.

"Well, why don't you take it anyway?" She stretched even further out of her seat to hand Eska the tissue.

Eska glanced back up at the theater box, he looked so nice in his suit, it complimented his eyes well. The sparkle of life his image gave her soon vanished, like clouds drifting across the brilliant sun; for he had that same sparkle when looking at her Ginger. Looking back at the frame bitter thoughts flooded Eska's mind. Watertribe clothes didn't accent his eyes, the engagement necklace didn't accent his eyes, he'd never sparkled for her, and she'd never heard an orchestra strike up a grandiose fanfare when their lips met. In that second he was everything she'd ever wanted, but the one thing she couldn't have, and the one thing she never would.

A small knowing sigh from next to her interrupted Eska's hampered musings. It seemed the old woman's gaze had followed Eska's and interpreted its meaning. Moving slowly and deliberately Eska took the tissue, unused, and placed it over the frame.

It only took seconds for her insides to hollow out and her mind to become numb, she missed him; she missed him like a bird with clipped wings misses flight. She felt she was just that, limited, forced to the ground, while he soared above all others.

The pain, hopelessness, and loss consumed her despite the front she put on. Just seeing his face sent a claw through her chest. What was even more terrifying than that beastly claw was the emptiness when it was gone, as if that was all that was to her and without it she was less than a shell, she was nonexistent. For being a shell implies there was something of substance to her before, but in hindsight she believes she never was anything before, or after Bolin, he just let her see that more clearly.

The audience rose in ignorance as a single entity, a tumultuous wave. Eska continued to stare dejectedly at the tissue as if hoping the tide would carry it away like a piece of driftwood and she would wake from the nightmare inside her.

* * *

><p>A man dressed lavishly in a blue suit with long tails and white frills at his throat appeared in the center of the bicolor bending platform. He commanded the attention of the stirring crowd and forced them to take their seats once again. He stood proudly, like a nobleman, with his hands clasped behind his back and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, completely unaware of the attention he gained with his mere presence.<p>

A flash of reflective light made the slowly descending silver microphone attached to the ceiling by a thin black wire noticed. It came to rest at eye level as a few long seconds passed in silence. The man then sprang to life, snatching the microphone with one hand and yanking it down a few more inches and pulling the cord taut. A broad grin of pearly whites domineered his face as he flourished the hand not holding the microphone.

"Wasn't that a wonderful mover?!" The shout seemed to echo in the silence before the crowd burst into cheers. "I sure thought so." He spoke releasing the mic and grabbing his coat. A cock-eyed smirk crept across his face and replaced the insane smile as he tilted his head to scan the audience through narrowed blue eyes. This pause was a short one for soon he broke into the boisterous man he originally appeared as. Doing a sort of jump-turn to face the booths fitted for subjects of the higher class he threw his hands in front of him and boomed. "So let's applaud our stars!"

Bolin, now more commonly know as Nuktuk, rose from amidst the decadent red velvet furnishings and took two quick steps forward, as to be seen by the entire crowd, before throwing himself into a deep bow. A broad smile occupied his face as he righted himself and ran to the very front of the box. He gripped the golden banister that kept him from tumbling over the edge with one hand, leaned out towards the audience, and waved frantically. The crowd's already thunderous cheers rose to an even higher level.

* * *

><p>Eska's eyes remained riveted on the frame as all this transpired. The ragged strands of hair that had gradually slipped loose from their container and now completely obscured her face. Unable to help it, she shook in her silent bout of tears. All the kind old lady could do was watch as the tissue she'd so generously given became wet with sorrow.<p>

From inside the booth another figure came out, a very curvy figure. A dazzling fitted blue dress swayed with her hips as she sauntered forward into the light and latched onto Bolin's arm like a parasite.

A small gasp of realization from next to Eska drew her attention away from the tissue and to her neighbor; the old woman had put one and one together and managed to get two. "Honey…" The lady's sympathetic words quickly trailed off as she moved to place a hand on Eska's back, but sensing her mood stopped short.

Knowing in her mind she was doing the wrong thing, knowing she was only hurting herself more, feeding her addiction, and expanding her everlasting nightmares, Eska turned her head to face the couple above.

The lights made Ginger's dress shimmer and her face and hair glow. She clutched Bolin's arm and smiled in a sickeningly sweet way. She then proceeded to peck his cheek like a middle-aged housewife and unwind one arm so it could drift in a gentle pageant wave. A Fire Nation red lipstick stain was left smudged on Bolin's cheek, which was already red from excitement.

Eska's mouth was agape and her eyes two silver pools brimming with fascinated horror. Ginger's smile was so sweet she could've vomited. Finding the strength to snap her head away, Eska began examining the floor with an inordinate amount of interest.

The audience quieted down as the star couple made their retreat back into the velvet cave. The man on the platform, Varrick, Eska thought as she recalled the man's name, gave one last exaggerated arm gesture to accompany the shout. "Thank you, and goodnight!" While the crowd rose for the third and final time, sweeping Eska out the door with them.

* * *

><p>In the theater booth above, the sounds of hundreds of pairs of feet making their way into the crisp night air could be heard. However, they didn't seem as near as they were , or even real, like when one hears an ocean but doesn't register that there are actual waves hitting the shore. So it was with this dull background that Bolin dared to begin a question he'd posed many times before. "So, Ginger I was thinking…"<p>

"No." She cut him off with her high, nasally voice before the question left his lips. Bolin remained where he was as he watched Ginger leave through his peripheral. The door opened and the chatter of the mob outside grew suddenly and with a slam resumed its muted phase.

Once alone, he walked again to the railing, this time calm, thoughtful, and mature. Not like a young child boarding a boat for the first and waving goodbye to his friends on the dock, but like a young man laden with unseen burdens. He relived a different moment of the last year with every step, meeting her, leaving her, becoming famous, blowing off his brother, defeating him, and leaving her, again. When his mind was let off its lease he found that not once did it drift back to red hair and a curvaceous body, but instead found itself forever tied to the thought of gray eyes and raven locks.

Placing his hands gently on the now smudged rail he released a sigh and tilted his head upwards to the heavens. His face was rimmed with soft sorrow and carved with sweet nostalgia; something much deeper than simple rejection haunted his nightmares.

* * *

><p>Even if you looked for hours one would never be able to tell which glittered brighter, the hope in the young man's eyes, the stars above, or the tear-stained picture left alone in an abandoned audience.<p>

If only she'd stayed to see. If only he looked below. If only someone spoke up. If only tears could fight nightmares.


End file.
